


Rituals of Union

by TallysGreatestFan



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alien Rituals, Alien Sex, Angst, Character Study, F/M, Minbari Sex Rituals, Unrequited Love, Worker Caste OC, a blend between a religious vision and a sex dream I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16293626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallysGreatestFan/pseuds/TallysGreatestFan
Summary: He only dreamed, but this meant nothing. It was neverthless just as real as his daily experiences on the space station, maybe even truer.-----------------------------------------,,You don’t have to do this, Lennier. The danger you expose yourself to, the pain you will suffer from. You can still turn back and break off the ritual.”,,I vowed to never leave your side. And how presumptious would I be if I would refuse something so holy?”





	Rituals of Union

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Circles on the Map](https://archiveofourown.org/works/935183) by [hearts_blood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/hearts_blood). 



**Rituals of Union**

 

_Music:                         ,,Consecration” – Woven Hand_

_,,Star Sky” – Two Steps from Hell_

 

The sentences of the novel gave him comfort, as they did in the time after his mother and his sister died on board of the “Drala’Fi”. Actually, his mother had given it to his older sister, but she didn’t like it and because of the fact that the plot of this historic novel is set in the time before Valen and she knew how much Lennier was interested in history, she “forgot” it in his little room in the monastery.

He had been hardly old enough to understand it, but it had branched his mind of.

He read it again when he felt particularly lonely in his school time, later then more than once, at the worst stages of the painful transition from child to adult, and as he had doubted if he truly was worthy to serve the Minbari Federation as an attaché, in his diplomatic education, as even his mentors tried to dissuade him from the idea, because how could he become an capable diplomat, he, the sleight, shy, insecure, quiet Lennier.

And he read it again, now, at the dawn of the second shadow war, as darkness ascended over the galaxy in truth. He descended in the old rites and threats of from over thousand years ago, until he didn’t perceived all the problems that arose now anymore. Nevertheless, the ritual for choosing the leader and unification of the peoples reminded him just to much at Delenns current situation. At least, a part of him thought spiteful, the leader in the book didn’t had to let herself be tortured to find out if she fit into this role, so that scars graced her wrists and sometimes she still stared at them with a panicked expression.

Only now he truly understood what unrequited love the characters suffered of meant, and it was equally painful and comforting to read about it. The well-known words spread bittersweet comfort in him, even now. But today he couldn’t concentrate on it. Again and again pieces of conversation by Delenn and the information scientist for astrophysical simulations from Worker Caste reached him.

,,…adequate most likely the maneuvers for the case of a war with peoples technologically almost coequal to us, as the Centauri.”

,,But as long as our last battles with the Centauri were ago…”,  the other woman responded, ,,I mean, training of the Warrior Caste is meant for slower and more inert ships than ours, they learn such maneuvers theoretically explained once shortly at best, just for the case.”

,,I know.”, Delenns voice sounded calm but Lennier knew her good enough to hear the slight desperation in it, ,,For this reason this fleet maneuvers have to be practiced. Yeestrell, change the ankle of the three ships at the upper end of the formation…”

Lennier wished he could do something, but he already had finished of all of the duties he was responsible for as an attaché. He could pilot a ship, but the Worker woman even wrote the programs those ships flew with, even when she probably had processed sensor data of several space anomalies and orbs the most time of her scientific career, and coordination of scientists. And Delenn understood so much more about tactics than he did.

He searched after any hints of Delenn and Yeestrell needing help. Yet perceiving something like this and understanding social behavior was so difficult. What could he just do?

He immersed himself into the novel again, yet hardly a half page later his look digressed to the two women again. The hologram of a dozen Sharlin cruisers along with star fighters covered them halfly and Delenn grabbed into the hovering images, changed the display with a movement of her fingers or let the ships flow maneuvers. Yeestrell sat beside it, wearing her Worker robe with the dozen pockets which’s fabric looked like the processors of a computer. She tipped orders into the computer, her broad, angular jaw was pressed together and she frequently peered up to the hologram. From time to time seemingly completely automatic she shoved one of the little cookies from the bowl at the end of the desk into her mouth. Lennier estimated how many cookies were still left in hope he could bring new. Refilling cookies wasn’t exactly a task future history books would tell about, but better than nothing.

He was incredible relieved as it became time to make dinner. As he looked after Delenn and the information scientist the next time they already discussed with Shai Alyt Ruuvan. It seemed to went like all former conversations with her too.

,,My caste is responsible for the protection of our territory, so what presume an alien who claims to be a Religious and a Worker to know more about how we should format our fleet?”

He felt the bright stabbing ache in his heart almost as much as Delenn  must have felt it after the sentence of the Shai Alyt, and saw the almost not noticeable flash of pain in her eyes and how her lips opened in the so typical expression of sorrow even before it happened.

,,But Religious Caste watched out for the old enemy since year one and beside our own knowledge my consulting refers to the experiences of the Warriors as well.”, Delenn said, ,,Our battleships come, regarding speed and weapons, closest to the ships of the old enemy and it would be foolish not to learn and research how to exploit this advantage.”

,,You want Warrior caste to practice this maneuvers? With _this_ situation at the non-aligned worlds?  Our resources are scarce even now!”

,,But just loading the programs into the ship’s computers won’t help against  an enemy as strong as the shadows!”, Yeestrell meddled now too.

He turned away.

The two came to dinner table a quarter-hour later, and he heard Yeestrell say: ,,I’ll try to reach as many Captains as possible and talk with them about this. But normally I drum up scientists from diverse worlds, not ships for battle fleets.”

The Shai Alyt had refused to help once again.

While eating, Delenn talked about all the other ways to collect her fleet and prepare it. She still had contact to some of the Satais and they supported her. Just as the station captain. Even when he seemed like he would put his own culture above the one of any other species with all his other behavior, Delenn could deal better with this presumptuous, staged-overoptimistic human than Lennier could. And he seemed fascinated by her wish to unite the peoples of the galaxy against the shadows. Probably because it simply never occurred him with his own narrow warrior point of view.

,,But he is Warrior, not diplomat.”, Delenn said full of longing and Lennier knew that she missed Sinclair just as much as he did. Or even more, in a way that felt very uncomfortable to remember at somehow.

 

Even when he couldn’t sign visa anymore – at this time of darkness the people lost their desire for traveling a bit - , he wanted to keep his seat at the side room in hope he could help still. But Delenn sent him away with the justification that when she couldn’t rest, at least he should. Yet as he sat in his quarter he didn’t was in the mood to rest. Instead a strange emptiness overcame him. He missed something. He longed so much for it that it hurt. But he did not know what. He wished he would have remained by Delenn and could have supported her somehow. He wanted to do everything for her, wanted to do everything for serving his people. Yet how could he, when Ruuvan refused to prepare the Minbari for the war to come? Oh, he would sacrificed himself for his people without hesitation, after all he was just a tiny part of this nation that moved like a single being made of billion bodies. Every Minbari felt this connection, and it was the deepest and most honorable way of love. Like the one for the Universe, or for Valen. Like his love for Delenn.

But did he still serve his people when it refused his services because he supported a half-human woman? They were collective and if Delenn and he did something now that just polluted their species by the opinion of everybody it would be wrong inevitable, even when it preserved them all from extinction. He must serve his people. And he would still do it when it would not understand how incredible important this was for their all persistence. When it did not understand how wise Delenns plans were.

He wished he could serve her better.

Suddenly he noticed that tears streamed down his face. He sat there and cried and just couldn’t stop. The pile of books and the wall behind it blurred before his eyes and he huddled tighter into the desk chair and wrapped his arms around his upper body. He tried to breath calmly, yet every time when he almost relaxed a new wave of pain went through his soul and he cried again.

Why? He did not know. Yet at this time a millennium old, superior enemy surfaced again, the universe seemed shortly before breaking and even his leader was casted out and had no place in the universe anymore, not with the one neither with the other species. Therefore it was probably normal that at some time he had a breakdown and cried.

Eventually he had calmed down enough to sleep, even when the pain always stayed in the background.

 

                                                          

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

He only dreamed, but this meant nothing. It was neverthless just as real as his daily experiences on the space station, maybe even truer.

They were on Minbar again, at the territory of the Third Fane of Chu’Domo. They paced up the steep way to the abbey. Delenn went ahead, draped into a thin, grey coat above her robe. An outcast, expelled by her people but still their leader. She would rescue them from the descending darkness and she came back to show all of them that she ruled. She would unify them again under her leadership.

Silently they paced upwards the mountainside, and with every step they came closer to the sky that outstretched over them dark blue and speckled with the first stars. Now it was already almost as if they would stand right in the middle of the universe, without anything between them and the stars.

,,You don’t have to do this, Lennier. The danger you expose yourself to, the pain you will suffer from. You can still turn back and break off the ritual.”, she said quietly as they were almost at top.

,,I vowed to never leave your side.”, he smiled at her and his heart beat heavily against his ribcage as he said the next words, ,,And how presumptious would I be if I would refuse something so holy?”

She smiled back and for a moment even his racing heart seemed to pause. He wondered how she only could have thought he could reject her. His leader. His Satai.

 

They arrived at the plateau. A group of priests already stood in two lines at the doorway and escorted them inwards. He noticed how some of them peered warily and angry at Delenn. Her posture changed only slightly, lesser upright and sure, yet she paced forward unaffected. The procession followed them trough the inner yard until a small prayer room, only then they left.

Blue sky light shone trough the open back wall of the room onto the triangular prism and the stone triangle of the altar. It played around Yeestrells face, as she paced before the altar, and in the half light it seemed even darker than usual, almost human or narn brown, smooth and softly glimmering like petrified wood, as dark as the skin of a Minbari could be. Her white garment seemed to shine even more in contrast.

,,Since more than an millennium we didn’t had to undergo this ritual. And since a millennium, too, we were not imperiled by the menace of the old enemy. But now darkness reverts and threats to smother us. Since thousand years we were a voice, a people, three castes. And you” – she opened her arms in a wide gestured and pointed at Delenn, ,,Delenn of Mir, try to bring this union to the other species. To band together against the old enemy.

But what is a leader without embodying her people? And what is she without one who sacrifices for her? And so you, Delenn of the Tenth Fane of Elleya and Lennier of the Third Fane of Chu’Domo, will reawake this ancient ritual.”

Yeestrell lighted one of the long, narrow candles on the altar. The ritual began.

,,Do you vow to serve?”, her voice filled the room.

,,I serve my people.”, Delenn and he said in accordance.

Yeestrell turned towards Delenn. ,,And do you vow to protect it?”

,,I vow. I will lead my people. I will sense the voice that speaks trough all of us. Since we all are only the voice of the universe and it speaks trough us.”

,,Who do you serve?”, now Yeestrell spoke directly to him.

,,I serve my people. And I serve their voice. I serve my leader.”

Yeestrell took their hands. Lennier tensed up under the unexpected physical contact, but he controlled himself to not take away his hands. He could not interrupt the ritual.

Yeestrell guided his hand to Delenns sternum, and her to his. Delenns eyes met his. It felt like he would drown in it, but he could not avert his eyes. For a moment nothing existed beside her eyebeam.

,,Will you follow me”, and he was lost in her deep voice, ,,into fire, into darkness?”

He noticed how she seemed to whisper soundlessly: ,,You still can go back and live in peace and leave this war and this pain behind.”

,,Yes.”, he responded, ,,I will follow you.”

How strange, a part of him thought from far away, that they actually knew each other only since not even more than two cycles. It seemed incredible much longer to him. Such closeness, such understanding and bond could be accrued only in a much longer time.

 

They kept silent while Yeestrell handed them over berries, powder and oils and while they filled them into bowls and grinded them in strictly definened procedures. As they were finished much lesser light shone into the room already. He perceived how it faded trough his half-closed eyelids as he meditated. He concentrated to this light, to Delenns quiet breathing beside him and the deep humming, cyclic sound of the singing bowl, over whichs rim Yeestrell stroke with her fingers.

As he opened his eyes again, it was night. He looked beside him. Delenns eyes gleamed like from tears.

This moment didn’t belong to the ritual, and so he could break the quiet and ask: ,,Delenn?”

She smiled to him, and in doing so looked so vulnerable that his chest felt tight. Would it ever not

disturb him to see this incredible strong, wise, mighty woman so weak?

,,It’s nothing. I’m… I’m only touched.”, she caressed his arm, ,,Thank you, Lennier. With you for the first time again I feel… like a Minbari.”

He felt as if a bubble of pure happiness would rise in his chest. And he smiled to her, as Yeestrell stepped towards him and blessed first her and then him with the holy sign of triangle to his forehead, painted with cool paste.

 

 

He stood in the middle of the rock plateau and could see the lights of the abbey only dimly somewhere behind him. Yeestrell poised motionless beside him. The mountains were black shapes before stars. The air tasted of night and was fresh but still warm.

He got in his knees slightly, concentrated fully onto his posture, the tension in his muscles, his breathing. He imagined how Delenn did the same on the inner yard of the abbey.

,,Close your eyes.” And she would close her eyes too, to perceive only her own motions anymore.

Yeestrell said the name of the first combination of moves. And Lennier performed it. Repeated it and took care of the movement only.

Delenn now had a Denn’Bok in her hands and went through attack combinations and defense sequences too. He could see it clearly before him.

His hands cut through the air, he ducked from imaginary attacks and himself attacked first, and perceived in the darkness of his closed eyes only how the movements felt like, and Yeestrells commands. Some when everything blurred into one another. He only thought at the next sequences. Other thoughts came and went like walkers in fog, yet the only ones that really reached him were the imagination how the next movement should feel like, to feel how it happened, and the clear image of Delenn in active meditation with her fighting staff.

He reached a state at which he indeed received all stimuli – the windblown against his body, his steps on the rocky ground, the slowly descending heaviness in his muscles – but they reached him no more. He did not judge anymore, he only let everything exist.

A subtle hum. Delenns shuttle started. He could see in front of his mind’s eye how she flow through the atmosphere and left it finally, and floated between the stars to feel the unity with the universe.

Somewhen first his right, then his left arm begun to hurt, and his legs cramped, yet he only acknowledged this too and moved further regardless.

,,Stay still.”, he obeyed without even have to think about the words, ,,Open your eyes.”

He blinked. It had felt like hardly an hour, yet the stars above him had moved on in a way after which rather several hours must have passed.

He could see again, but the other-worldly distance stayed.

 

He stood in the yard of the abbey again, and Delenn paced towards him. From the way she moved he recognized that she was just as much in trance as he. She moved slower and much more focused, only her steps in direct movements, not the countless other motions one usually did too.

She approached him directly, and he realized that she had chosen him on her side. She led him, and this ritual would seal their bond ultimately. The realization shot into the most secret part of his body, and he breathed in shakily, and slowly, controlled, out. She paced past him. Her shoulder skimmed over along his side and he felt her heat trough the fabric.

He was lead into a small room and followed, without initiating something himself, only watching. A second young male priest, hardly older than him, stepped behind him. He recorded how he wrapped his arms around him to open his robe, and how he then brushed it past his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. He recorded the short walling up of fright from the touch, yet he only noticed it without reaction too. Warm, incense-heavy air meet his naked skin as they took off his trouser and his wide, skirt-like undergarments. He was still enough in a meditative state to be able to only stand there like this, without urge to cover himself up and putting on clothes. It was part of the ritual.

One of the two reached for a bowl with the paint he and Delenn had prepared before, and dipped a frayed wooden rod into it.

He braced himself for the feeling. Nevertheless he flinched and was pushed out of trance as the priest painted signs on his skin, traces of ice cold paste. Only after he imagined the paint brush would move on its own he was able to relax once more.

They draw entwined tendrils under the lines of his collar bone, mystic, almost geometrical seeming signs down his arms and the slight curve of his chest, runes and symbols of planets and stars and homeworld on his pale white skin and where it changed over to blurred sky blue. He felt the brush slide over his back, just over his shoulder blades and then down his spine. He could almost truly see the light brown drawings on pale blue skin. They painted his hands, straight lines and tiny waves and swirls and symbols and the holy sign of triangle at his palms and over the pale blue of his groin.

They handed him over an garment out of thin, white, almost transparent fabric, as the paint was dried. The fabric rushed around his body and brushed over his naked skin at every movement. Under every other circumstances this clothing would be terrible awkward for him, but he was to deep in trance and to much into the ritual to be bothered by it. He would sacrifice Delenn his virginity. He was ready.

 

He was lead into the rock temple carved into stone, at which usually only the star meditations happened, an quarter hour walk away from the abbey that he hardly had perceived in his rapture. Countless candles illuminated the symbol ornamented altar – or was it a bed, inclined to forty-five angular degree and padded with these typical mats and thick fabric? His look wandered upwards. Over him stars extended, there was no ceiling between him and the sky.

The priests lead him trough an way between all the candles on the floor, towards the altar, and for a moment an association of a mu’tak meant for slaughter on the way to an sacrificial altar of an pre-civilizational culture of his ancestors flashed up in his mind. But he would willingly sacrifice himself for his people…

Almost mechanically he lied down, did not peek after the priests as they left him, only heard their steps on the stone floor.

It felt very good to lie after such a long time on his feet, yet somehow he couldn’t quite relax. He breathed deeply and tried to remain in trance. Suddenly fear flowed trough him. Fear of not being able serve his people in the right way, fear to be not good enough, fear of what was meant to come. Fear of the last part of the ritual. It was so… irretrievable. And there was nervousness too, yet it was somewhat different, he felt it not only in his chest but deeper down too, an fluttering, nervous tingle between his thighs.

The sky was wide above him, and as he looked longer he noticed that it looked like if he would see the stars trough the wrap of a giant glass sphere. He did not know how long he lied there and watched the sky.

Steps on the stone floor. He looked up. Delenn entered the room, slowly yet still with controlled, entirely focused movements. He didn’t saw her eyes, her hood hung deep into her face and only sharp chin, nose, cheeks and waves of black brown hair stacked out of it. Her grey garment of thin, roughspun fabric flew around her body with every movement.

He leaned on his forearms, tried to straighten himself up as upright as possible. His heart raced and he had the feeling of not being able to breathe enough anymore. Yet at the next moment the nervousness disappeared. This was familiar to him. Not familiar in a sense of knowing the procedure of the ritual. Deeply acquainted. Just as acquainted as he was with the high priestess who slowly approached him, he seemed to know her so much better than only the two cycles at which they had worked together and became friends. As if he had always known her.

She kneeled over him and trough the thin fabric he could feel the tension of her muscles to hold herself on the angled altar, the strength of her thighs against his hips. She was very warm. She took his hands and lead them over his head, and he let it happen willingly. For a moment they only looked at each other, her face only one palm away from his. He recognized her facial features only hazy beneath the fabric, yet he still was sure that she looked him into the eyes too. And then she bent down and kissed him. From this moment on nothing existed anymore apart from her and him, her lips on his, her body over him.

She was gentle, tender, yet still dominant, she opened his lips and her tongue drove over the inner surface of his mouth and then against his. She never was so close to him, so very close, and she had initiated the ritual, she wanted him, and she still wanted more closeness; her fingers slide under his robe and shoved it apart so that it no longer covered his chest. She parted from him and for a short moment he felt her breath on his chin and split seconds later her lips. She consecrated him with her experienced hands. Her lips followed, over his neck, throat, over the line of his collar bone, her hands slide down the slight curve of his chest, and she traced the blurred blue swirls over his sternum. At the next moment she already caressed his collar bone eagerly and with pressure. And then, suddenly, he felt her mouth around his nipple. Moisture, warmth, how soft and yet firm her lips were. He couldn’t help but arching his body towards her, breathed in shallowly and hectic gasps. She looked up to him and grinned while she continued, and her expression seemed almost sly. Her hair brushed over his naked skin with every movement, silky and smooth and so alien…

She caressed over the hollow beneath his sternum and then further over the line of pale blue down his flat stomach. Her tongue made small, fast movements over his chest and he could hardly keep himself from gasping out loud.

Usually even an hug was to much, tactile overload, but with Delenn… and this… it was wonderful.

She opened the rest of his garments. An waft of air drove over his tights and loins, and he realized that the fabric did not cover him a bit anymore.

Her fingers continued their way over pale blue skin, deeper, he instinctively parted his tights, and then she touched him where he had never been touched before. _Oh Delenn…_

Throbbing pressure, hot and fluttering, so intense that he wasn’t able to do anything else then simply lying there with eyes closed, breathing shallowly, feeling her hands on his body. The strangeness of the sensation almost destroyed the sentiment of deep closeness and acquaintance that had build up between them, and there was fear again. Yet this wonderful pressure casted a damp over everything. He had felt this only very, very seldom in his live and when he had touched himself he had never became aware of how damn good it felt.

She parted her hands from him as he was ready for her, and he opened his eyes, only to see how she removed her hood from her head. Her look focused him, half enraptured by desire, she breathed hard trough half opened lips. Candle light got caught in the silvery and crystal jewellery on her bone crest, and her hair streamed down her shoulders, over naked skin as she slowly striped her robe down. Just as him she did not wear anything beneath it. He had seen her like this before, shortly after her transformation, and had felt nothing beside pride and admiration to be so brave to even change her own body for her goals. Yet this was completely different. The grey fabric glided down slowly, exposed her small breasts, her waist, the curve of her hips, and then finally slid on the floor beside the altar. The blue patterns on her belly missed, there was only beige skin anymore, but instead she had now other, more human attributes.

A wave of her scent welled up, no more hold back by the fabric, and he breathed it in, incense and candle wax, the mixture she was washing her hair with, the scent of her fresh sweat, and something stronger, spicier, archaic that covered everything else.

Her hands returned to his body, and she looked down on him. She was so elevated, so powerful. He wasn’t afraid. There was only the everything covering sense of belonging, the wish to be hers again, to be one with her.

And then she enveloped him. And he abandoned himself to her.

He had never made love to anybody, and yet he knew how to follow her movements. He knew the sensation of feeling her body over him, pressed tightly against him, as if he would only repeat something incredible familiar but not done for a long time. He knew her low, appreciative sighs at every lithe thrust of her hips, that escaped her as she breathed out, and he rocked his loins against hers, followed her, and with every thrust pleasure rose in him  more violent.

His pale white skin against her orange-brownish beige, sky blue against dark hair.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck, she massaged the sensitive skin directly under the rim of his bone crest, shot electric shivers through his nape. Her hair brushed over his neck and shoulders, silky and alien. Her lips meet his, hard and intense and only for a few seconds, before they had to part, gasping for air. He felt her thin, hard muscles, her strength. Her hands left his neck, slide over his flanks, hips, followed the blue pattern on his belly, as their bodies parted enough for it. He worshiped her with slender fingertips over her smooth skin, imagined how he traced the pale blue speckles down her spine, felt the soft curve of her hips and her hard pelvic bone, how taut the muscles of her legs were, pressed his hands into her buttocks, tried to control her motions against his body. Eventually he brushed with his hand trough her firm, dark hair, debauched in the sensation and let swirls slide trough his fingers, before he rubbed hard against the smooth, sensitive skin beneath it. Delenn jerked and pressed him harder against the altar, lips half opened, eyes closed and brows narrowed. A sharp undertone resonated in her surprised gasp.

They prayed with their bodies, prayers of union and belonging, the oldest their people knew. But Lennier realized that it was much more than only physical. They were connected by more than just this life, their souls belonged to each other. They found each other anew and anew, he could feel it clearly. He was her young priest, her attaché, her mate. The feeling saturated him while she loved him, and he was sure that she could feel the same.

The closeness, the sensation of union, the burning pleasure became more intense, more intense and intense until he believed it couldn’t become any stronger. She moved against him, harder and harder, trembling of effort. And suddenly she shuddered, tensed all muscles, and because he was one with her the shivers passed over on him too. Her dark hair blended with the night sky as she arched her head back and convulsed  her face to a soundless cry.

He couldn’t move as the sensation shot through his loins and his body and finally he made a sound, a word, a throaty, high cry that echoed through the room: ,, _Delenn!_ ”

She collapsed over him tiredly, and sweat-soaked hair felt over his shoulders. He remained lying too and gasped for air, brushed the strands aside from her face some when and traced the form of her bone crest between the hair. She kissed him on the forehead and smiled, and he kissed away the sweat from her neck and pulled her closer to him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He just lied there for a long time, relished in the wonderful sense of safety and warmth in his heart. Yet as he opened his eyes, he only stared at the ceiling of his quarter on Babylon 5. He was alone.

He felt sticky wetness between his thighs and hated himself for the reactions of his body. How could he be so disrespectful? But even while he hastily striped down his garments and grabbed some random new nightgown, he wondered how something as holy like what they did in this dream could be wrong. He still felt where she had touched him. Her hands and lips on his naked skin, her weight on him, her body around his.

In a sudden inspiration he turned his hand and searched after the light brown drawings. But there was only pale skin. He knew this paste from his transferring ritual from child to adolescent. The drawings could hardly be washed off, they would have marked him as _hers_ for weeks.  A hot shudder rushed through him at this thought.

Yet it must be a memory nevertheless, he thought with an echo of the century-, millennium-long connection of the dream. He had never made love to anybody, not even kissed someone. He only hardly understood what they had done. But still it was so real – so true – and he knew he never could have imagined it so realistic. It must have been an memory form a past live inevitable, countless past lives, in which Delenn and he had found each other and were lovers.

His body still felt strangely enraptured from the hot traces her touch had left, as he stumbled trough the embassy corridor in direction of the bathroom to wash this disgusting stuff out of his nightgown.  He stumbled over the robotic vacuum cleaner that some idiotic embassy clerk – probably he – had left running in the night with exactly the intention to prevent something like this. The machine clanked trough the half corridor, and he froze and hoped that he hadn’t woke up Delenn. What only could he say to her? Yet everything remained quite.

He spent the rest of the night meditating and praying.

 

,,Good morning.”, she stood before him still in her pajamas and smiled to him. It was so strange to see her after this night and he had to turn away his look. He had used his early awakening to buy the first freshly baked Fjaka on the Zocalo and had slipped into his nightgown again so that she did not feel strange to still not being clothed.

,,You look overtired. Did you have nightmares?”, she caressed his cheek and it felt even stranger than seeing her after this dream.

,,No.”, he felt how this stupid, politely meant, naïve smile crept into his facial expression, ,,I… I dreamed about an ancient ritual from the time before Valen that also was described at the book I read by now. It honored the leader, and it showed the recognition of her power, and… you appeared in it to. It honored you.” _And we made love._ ,,I only couldn’t fall asleep anymore after it.”

,,This seems only fair considering the times I dreamed of you.”, she said with an hard to interpret smile,  in light of which he wondered for a brief moment, if she too ever had… He banished the thought.

But then her look went blank.

,,I only wish my people would value my power in truth.”, she mumbled.

His heart ached. ,, _I_ recognize it.”

,,I don’t doubt at this. Not since a long time ago.” And she took a candle, light it and begun with the morning prayers.

 

Yeestrell was back on her scientific ship, and only the cardbordish leftovers of the embassy’s cookie supply gave notice of her yesterdays visit.

,,How are my appointments for today?”, enquired Delenn and he told her them.

,,How did the elaboration of battle plans went?”

She smiled slyly. ,,I will show them to the others by our tomorrow’s meeting. And I know now how I can get my fleet.”

He looked at her enquiring. Her smile got broader and seemed even more dangerous.

,,What do you think would happen when some low-ranking members of warrior caste would accidentally get the records of an certain human fighter pilot in their hands that would show exactly with what menace we deal here? Understanding is not required, yet when one knows things that can help the leaders to protect us all, yes, that downright force actions it is the duty of all of us to forward this information and to… _advice_ our superiors. Ruuvan will have to give in  to the pressure sooner or later.”

She took a Fjaka and begun to dunk it into the sauce. Their talk made a turn in direction human food and then the trouble on the Zocalo overall that was there even in the early morning standard time. They talked vigorously and more vigorously, goaded each other with ,,Yes, exactly!” and other statements to feel the same, to hear the opinion of the other only as mirror and strengthening of the own, and as finally everything was cleared away and they kept quiet again Lennier felt mentally just as sated and happy like he was physically after the breakfast.

 

,,Thank you.”, she said as the last mediation of the morning ritual was over.

,,For what?”

,,For feeling like a Minbari again with you.”, she looked at him full of friendship and fragile safety and yes, love too.

He was so touched that he, still uncontrolled and emotional vulnerable form the night, almost got tears in his eyes. Yes, she could feel their deep connection too, at least in this moment, he was sure.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually finished this story like two years ago or something, but until now I feared that I wouldn’t be able to translate the kind of sophisticated and old-fashioned language I loved about the german original. Now I simply said: Whatever, you cant wait forever for some native speaking beta reader, publish it and maybe polish it later. 
> 
> By now, this is probably my favorite own story for this ship. I like how bittersweet and nevertheless cute and beautiful it is, basically Lenniers POV on this ship in a nutshell, and I love the character study and that I was finally able to show Delenn doing politics, something that I wish there would be more of but somehow I hardly have any ideas for. 
> 
> As you may or may not have noticed, the core scene, the ritual in the dream respectively the erotic fantasy is heavily inspired by the Beltane ritual in ,,Mists of Avalon”. I just had read this once and since the culture of the Minbari is based on more or less religious rituals and the believe at reincarnation too and Lennier is a young priest… I just thought it would fit if he would think at such a ritual, then such religious rites are something that’s familiar to him, after all. I had it in my head since I watched Babylon 5 for the very first time, and in this first versions it was a lot more kinky, with him tied up and Delenn never taking off her robe, but already writing this felt strange, so… The frame story is newer, though. 
> 
> Its also quite similar to hearts_bloods ,,Circles on the Map”, even if I actually didn’t even knew this story as I started to write this. Only that I couldn’t possibly hope that it’s as amazing as it. 
> 
> I was quite insecure about the dream and the sex scene, which was the first one I ever wrote. I feared that they would be to strange. But looking on it now, I feels fitting.


End file.
